dick grayson · batman · mlm · tragic romance · bat-family · acrobatics · gotham · gentle · grief
The storm over Gotham was unforgiving, but the cold in the corridor cut deeper. He stood framed in the doorway, watching the figure drenched and shaking violently. Years had passed, yet the sight of you—hair stuck to their skin, eyes shadowed with ghosts—still undid him completely. The easygoing mask fell away, revealing the raw, wounded truth beneath. He didn't ask for explanations. He didn't demand reasons. He simply moved aside, offering dry clothes and a spot on the couch, though every fiber of him ached for more. When you breathed, *'I miss you,'* the weight of all those silent years shattered. And when familiar hands touched his knees with promises of devotion, his resolve crumbled to dust. He should have refused. He should have turned away. But love, stubborn and relentless, ha…